Under The Willow
by Scrittrice Matilda
Summary: Willow Mellark never expected to volunteer, for a stranger no less. But it seems that fate has destined her to play in this game of kill or be killed. The President was sneakier, always having something up her sleeves. So Willow had to be wary of who she trusted or she'd have to pay the price for it. "I volunteer as tribute for Audrey Morrison" What has she gotten herself into?
1. Prologue

~Under The Willow~

A New Generation of Rebels

Written By: Scrittrice Matilda

(Actual) Summary: Willow Mellark never expected to volunteer, for a stranger no less. But it seems that fate has destined her to play in this game of kill or be killed. The President was sneakier, always having something up her sleeves. So Willow had to be wary of who she trusted or she'd have to pay the price for it. Does Willow stand a chance at surviving and helping her friends? If she finishes what her parents had started, then yes, maybe she does.

Warning: Violence, it's the Hunger Games after all. Also some (*cough*lots*cough*) romance along the way. Some characters will be bad, and you might not like how I represent them. Sorry if you don't, and if you really don't like it, then write your own story! So if you don't like violence or romance, you should probably hit the back button about…now.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games series. It is Suzanne Collins, and I'm perfectly fine with it staying hers. While I don't own the characters like Willow and Rye, I made their personalities and change of ages. Some OCs will enter, ones like Johanna's daughter, Gale's kid, etc. Next Update: Around a week from now, give or take a few days. I really need a schedule…

* * *

Prologue

Peeta Mellark usually wasn't so nervous. He tended to be more carefree, his personality making it easy for him to get along with others without a trouble. He was, after all, a victor of the hunger games, so it was hard to unnerve him. He was one of the star crossed lovers, adored by many, unknown to many. He was Peeta Mellark, someone who could never be nervous or scared to others.

But that was usually, not now.

Not when his wife was in labor, ready to give birth to a baby she once claimed she would never have. The baby that Peeta always wanted, and was now going to have. And he couldn't be more excited.

Really.

Though, the baby wasn't supposed to be born so early. One of the nurses had explained everything to him. The baby was two months early, and that wasn't a good thing. It would mean that there was three likely outcomes: One, the baby could be fine after some treatments and tests. Two, the baby could be extremely unhealthy or weak all of his/her life, making it miserable for them. Or three, the baby could die. The thought of the last two made Peeta sick to his stomach. He loves Katniss, and the premature birth of the baby could kill her. And he loved the baby already, ever since he knew of his/her existence. So thinking of Katniss and/or the baby dying wasn't a very pleasant thing for him.

Not a pleasant thing at all.

He paced around the room, blocking everything around him out. He could only see his shoes, dark grey shoes that he never really liked. He had thrown them on quickly after hearing Katniss's painful screams. He could only hear blurring sounds of chattering nurses, their heels clicking on the ground as they whispered. He could smell the hospital smell, one that was filled with sadness and happiness. The smell that could be recognized as either the death of someone or the life of someone. He could only feel his heart pounding, as if it wanted to escape his impatient self.

He couldn't blame his heart.

Here he was, being denied access to the two people he cherished most. As every second ticked by, the doctors started leaving a horrible impression on Peeta. They stood there, explaining to him that he had to stay out, while they tried to help his wife. They tried to look sympathetic, and he knew some of them were, but the others weren't.

Their stiff posture and awkward words did nothing to appease his ever-growing worry. Maybe he should follow Haymitch's advice and drink when he was stressed. Because dealing with these insufferable doctors and nurses in the middle of the night was painfully annoying. Especially when he could easily hear Katniss's pain, if he wasn't blocking everything out.

A finger tapped his shoulder, and old reflexes took place. He swiftly spun around and got into a fighting position, scaring the exhausted doctor. Peeta relaxed at the sight of one of the only doctors he could trust. He had been the one to guide Katniss and Peeta through the expected troubles of pregnancy. He was also the one that Katniss always got her check ups from.

"Yes?" Peeta asked impatiently, too concerned and irritated to bother being polite. The doctor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a crease forming there. Uh oh. That meant trouble, really bad trouble.

"We have some good news and bad news," said the doctor as he sadly stared into concerned eyes. Peeta looked at him with narrowed eyes, bad news was something he wanted to have avoided. But it seemed that Lady Luck had done otherwise. Turned his hope around, and gave him a squished dream. "The good news is that Katniss is alive and sleeping peacefully, something expected after such a stressing birthing." The doctor grimaced, putting his hand on Peeta's shoulder, as if to comfort him."The bad news is that the child did not make it. I'm sorry Peeta, but his body was too weak from the premature birth. He's gone, dead." Blue eyes widened in horror, and silence reigned the room.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Peeta dropped to his knees and started shaking. After all of the excitement, the love, the worry. After seven months of life-changing moments, the baby was gone. He was dead, forever out of Peeta and Katniss's reach. And at that moment, Peeta felt that nothing could ever be as worse as it was now. Oh, how wrong he was.

One of her oldest and most prominent memories was of her brother and her running around in a meadow, playing a childish game of tag. Her parents sitting to the side, enjoying their children's games and the meadow's beauty.

The meadow was big and gorgeous, the perfect place to be. It had lush grass, and wildflowers that scattered around the fields. The place had an air of serenity, with the birds chirping and the squirrels running up trees. A rushing river was nearby, where Willow liked watching the fish splashing around and tadpoles learning how to swim. Willow's favorite part was the willow tree, her namesake. It was tall and old, but breathtaking. With a gigantic trunk and slumping branches full of leaves; it was Willow's personal hiding spot. She would duck under the branches and sit against the trunk, either a book or drawing pad in hand. She loved the tree with all of her heart.

She remembered her brother, Rye, being the one chased around. He would tease her playfully, like pretending to casually walk or to start a one-sided conversation with her. He would always try to get her to give up and tell him he won, but that never happened. Willow never gave up when it came to playing with her brother, whether she won or lost, it didn't matter. And long as she made it to the end, that was what she cared about.

Rye Mellark, the son of Katniss and Peeta. He was seven during the time, and was already showing some of his father's attributes. Rye was nearly a carbon copy of his father, with a cheerful smile and a charisma that could charm anyone. He had blond hair like his dad, but seam grey eyes like his mother. Rye could bake like Peeta and track like Katniss, although his skills lied more in trapping then hunting.

Rye smiled encouragingly at his little sister, who stumbled upon a rock. A small cut formed at her ankle, where the rock slid. She ignored the stinging that started forming in her ankle and kept going, much to her brother's amazement. "Go Willowy! That's right, don't let the pain get to ya," exclaimed Rye a bit too enthusiastically, much to his sister's irritation. She glared at him, not very different from her mother, and pumped her limbs faster.

Rye started speeding his pace up too, not wanting the game to end so early. He grinned as he watched his sister gain distance on him, about five feet away from him. He turned back around, and started pushing himself faster, but it was too late.

A body collided into his back and he slid to the ground. Dark brown hair surrounded his neck as he heard Willow cry in triumph. Not one to be a sore loser, Rye quickly spun around and pulled Willow onto his stomach, causing her to giggle softly.

"Fine then," sighed Rye as he played with her untied hair. "You win, Willowy."

Willow jumped up and started cheering, pumping her fists into the air as she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. She completely forgot about her hurt ankle and, now, dirty clothes. Katniss and Peeta joined their children, amusement clear on their faces. Katniss softly smiled at her daughter and ruffled her hair, making Willow pout cutely. Her father, on the other hand, was ecstatic.

"Look at my little girl winning against her older brother! You deserve a prize, Willowy," cried Peeta as he twirled his daughter, making her laugh in delight. Katniss sighed as Rye grinned, thinking the same thing.

"It must be a Mellark-Men thing," says Katniss, but her voice held happiness. Willow nodded cheekily, her eyes bright and playful as she tried to stop laughing.

"So dear, what do you want?" Peeta asks once he stopped spinning Willow. Willow stands there in silence for a while, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to think about her answer. Suddenly, her blue eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers, causing her family to smile at her obviousness.

"A song!" She exclaimed, grabbing her mother's arm with excitement. "I want Mama to teach me a song!" Peeta and Rye grinned from ear to ear, both loving the two girls' voices. Katniss paused before quirking a smile, knowing the song she'd choose.

"Okay dear, I'll teach you a song." Katniss says, picking her daughter up. She looked at the two males and raised an eyebrow at them. "And you two can go home, wait till we finish learning the song. Then we can sing it to you."

Rye was about to protest, when Peeta picked him up and started flying him towards home. Rye started cheering his father on as he put his arms out.

Katniss turned to her daughter and motioned to the willow nodded and started skipping to the tree, ducking under the slumping branches. She sat comfortably against the trunk and faced her mother. She looked up at her mom with barely controlled excitement as she started bouncing up and down.

"What song are you gonna teach me, Mama?" Katniss closed her eyes, her mind in a another place, one far into the past. With a small, eleven year-old child who died by a spear and laid in a bed of flowers. A girl from District Eleven, a girl named Rue, like the tiny flower.

"I like to call it Rue's Lullaby," whispered Katniss as she pet the tree trunk, absent mindedly. "It's very special to me, and you have to be careful about who you sing it to. Only the ones you truly trust and love should hear these words from your lips, Willow. Promise me?"

Willow straightened up, her eyes holding seriousness as she nodded as firmly as a five-year old could. "I promise Mama."

"Good Willow, I trust you to keep to that promise. Here is how the song goes, remember the melody, then the words.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow,

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you…"

End of Prologue

Author's Note: After finishing Talent and Wisdom, The Perfect Mix, I realized something. My writing is horrible. The chapters are sucky and really short *wince* and I need to form characters better. So this is an experiment to see if I can up my writing skills. It's also a rewrite to my old Hunger Games story, for those who liked that. I was going to abandon it completely…until I reread my reviews form the story. It made me completely forget about forever-forgetting the story. So this plot developed, and I'm ready to start another story. Yes, I will be deleting my other Hunger Games story after I get a few of these chapters done *sobs*. I'm really sorry about that, but I need to restart my writing. This is my sign of a new start. (And I completely messed up by posting this without fixing the paragraph problem. Damn you Fanfiction for making copy and paste so evil!)

*One Last Thing-I need a Beta for this story. I don't want to mess this up, and I know that grammar mistakes are such a pain in stories. So I'd like it if someone offered to be my Beta. This won't be a 'first come, first serve' thing, it would depend on your skills as a Beta.

Please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed!


	2. One: Day of Reaping

~Under the Willow~

A New Generation of Rebels

Written By: Scrittrice Matilda

Warning: Mentioned in the Prologue, but here's a brief cover. Violence. Blood. Hunger Games. Romance. Oh, and changes in ages and other facts. Don't like? Don't read. Really, please don't read this if all you're going to do is complain and write flames. It isn't worth the trouble.

Disclaimer: Does it seem like I own the Hunger Games? For that matter, a published book or series? I wouldn't be on Fanfiction, writing a story if I was an author. Rights reserved to Suzanne Collins. Though, an OC or two will pop up, and I did choose some character's personalities.

Shout Out To: HealthyHungerGamesObsession101 for being the first to review, favorite, and follow! You made my day, thanks for such a quick feedback for this story!

~Chapter One~

The Day of Reaping

_Shoes stamping on crisp grass, wild shouts echoing throughout the forest. __T__eenagers screaming in pain as their life was taken away. Blood was splattered everywhere, making those who saw the scene flinch. The Careers were on a rampage, ready to kill anyone who was considered an enemy or threat to them. Their weapons clanging as they ran after their victims, like predators chasing after prey._

_I could feel my sore feet trip over tree roots and rocks. I try not to vomit as I see the dead bodies laying around, limbs snapped, and faces contorted in pain. _

_Fear was pounding through my veins as I tried to hide, to get away and stop the Careers from catching me. My ankle twists awkwardly, and I cry out. Tears running fresh down my face as I fumble for my weapon. A bow and arrow. Just as I notched the arrow just in case an enemy appeared, a foot crushed the wooden bow along with my hand._

_I muffle a terrified scream, and find myself staring into cold, brown eyes that were bright with insanity and triumph. It was a man from District Two, with hollow cheeks and perfect, light skin. His hair wasn't even ruffled from the chase, and he laughed breezily, like he enjoyed the exercise. _

_I hide my fear with a harsh glare, one exactly like my mother's. My hair was short, the humid air had been too hot for my long hairstyle. It reached my chin and stuck to my face with sweat. I grit my teeth as the boy crushed my hand harder, causing it to make a snapping noise. _

_I couldn't stop the sobs._

"_Pathetic," he spat, his teeth pulled back in a snarl. "The 'oh so great' daughter of Peeta and Katniss is laying here, beneath my feet. What an honor, maybe I should make this more…interesting for the crowd, eh?" _

_He lifted his foot, only to stomp on my other hand, and with a sickening crunch, made my senses numb with pain. I slam my head back into the ground, my mouth open with a silent yell, my vocal chords too tired. Too exhausted for making noises of pain._

"_S-stop," I meekly whispered, tears rolling down my face as I started to tremble. The kid laughed in sadistic delight, his brown eyes literally glowing in the dark night. Like a distorted gold color, a color that I now despised. Too dark, too insane._

_Weakness flushed through my body as the boy let his foot move towards my heaving chest, right above my heart. He smirked, like he knew what horrors he was causing me. He slowly brought the covered foot closer and closer, until it was stopping me from breathing properly. _

"_How about I don't," he replied darkly before lifting his leg up and slamming the heel of the shoe into my chest. And just before it hit my chest completely… _

I feel a hand shaking my shoulder, and shoot up. Bedcovers fly and my mom stepped back in surprise.

My mom, Katniss Mellark. She was a victor in the Hunger Games, and a mother to two children, my brother and I. She had grey eyes that she shared with my brother, a common eye color in the Seam. Her dark hair that I had gotten was pulled into a delicate french braid. She was wearing a simple, but nice dress. It was a summer dress that was dark blue with small designs at the edges. Midnight blue heels clicked as she moved towards me quickly, wiping sweat and tears away from my face. She was concerned, her brows furrowed together as she looked at me.

"Oh god Willow, not another dream?" Her question was more of a statement, but I still nodded. I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and sniffed.

"Yeah, another nightmare, it was different though," I replied, remembering how horribly worse the dream was compared to the other ones. Ever since I had become eligible for the Reaping this year, I had been getting terrifying nightmares with me being in the games.

My mom kisses my forehead and hugged me. "You don't have to tell me about it," she whispered softly, knowing what it felt like. She had similar dreams after all.

"Talking about it will probably help," I say, shuddering as the scenes flashed through my eyes. "I was running from the Careers, when I twisted my ankle. One of the Careers had caught me and broke both of my arms. He was gloating about how he had overpowered me, the daughter of two victors." I choke at the last part, shame filling me. If my dream self could be so easily taken down, I didn't deserve the title 'Daughter of Two Victors'.

"It ended when he nearly killed me, almost crushing my heart and lungs."

Katniss closed her eyes, imagining the scene. Before bringing me close to her, like she was scared that I would disappear.

"It's okay, I'll never let anyone take you away today," she promised, stroking my hair. I froze, but she didn't notice.

The Reaping was today. I had completely forgotten about it. How could I forget? Gosh, I'm an idiot.

"It's today," I whispered in slightly confused distress, my face covered by my trembling fingers. My mom stiffened, softly cursing herself for being blunt, but I ignore her. My heart started to pound harder, like I was back in my dream, being chased by the Careers. In the Hunger Games, trying to not be killed.

"Yes dear, it is. I'm sorry for not being more subtle about it," apologized my mom as she sighed.

"It's fine mom." I smile cheerfully at her, but she looks at me like she was saying, 'I know you're hiding it, so stop it'. I stop smiling and pushed my forehead to her neck, as if trying to bury away from my problems. She puts her hand on my hair softly, pulling me closer.

I try not to cry. Crying was a weakness that I couldn't afford at the moment, especially when it would only make my mom feel worse.

In an attempt to distract myself, I breath in my mom's scent. Cookies and chocolate croissants. She must've been helping around the Bakery with my father. He always enjoyed her company, even if it only caused chaos.

I still never got why he let her into the kitchen after she burned water while trying to cook macaroni and cheese. It was a funny incident that was never again mentioned. If you did mention it…well, you got a one way ticket to being grounded. My brother found out the hard way. A week of extra chores and no friends made him shut up and keep a straight face on.

After a few moments of silence, I feel my mother stand up slowly. "Come on Willow, it's time to get ready."

In the mirror was a completely different girl from me. It wasn't the snappish and fierce tempered me, who liked to keep to myself more often. A nearly perfect image of my mom, with a glare that could scare anyone and a rare smile that wasn't often seen. I could lie and act averagely-better then my mom-but nobody could convince me to stand up for something that I don't believe in. I can't look into the camera and say that I love the Hunger Games, because I absolutely hate the games.

So no, this wasn't the normal me-but the famous me-the optimistic and ever-so-talented daughter of Katniss and Peeta Mellark. The girl who always smiled and laughed when appropriate, never got angry or impatient. The perfect child.

Yeah right, whenever someone said that, I wanted to snort, and die of laughter.

I tug at my dress irritably, trying to keep myself from ripping it off. It was a pallor blue, a sundress. A pure white satin belt went across my mid-stomach, it had intricate patterns of flowers on it. I had a matching ribbon that kept my hair in a side ponytail . I wore flats, refusing the heels my mom first suggested-orders from a stylist-that had a small bow on the top. I had a white cardigan wrapped around my waist. A touch of lip gloss and mascara, and BAM! I was Willow Mellark, the camera sensation.

"Mom, do I have to wear this…abomination," I huffed in annoyance, my hands on my hips. She rolled her grey eyes and nodded.

"Yes, you do," she informed me with a hidden smile. "You know the protocol. We dress up like barbies, smile at the Capitol people, wave at the stupid cameramen, pretend we like the idiots, and _then_ go back home."

I snickered at the brief and blunt list of steps we go through every time we go somewhere important. The list was true, but my mom always had a way to make it sound amusing, when really, it wasn't.

"I know," I sighed. "But really, isn't this a bit melodramatic?" Mother looks at me incredulously for a second, as if expecting me to know the answer. And I do.

"It's Reaping Day, dear. Nothing is melodramatic to the medias on this day." My mom herded me out of the room, her flawless manicures gleaming in the light. They're a navy blue with white flowers on her two thumbs. Coated with top coat, it looked like gel was on her fingernails. We go down the stairs, and I'm careful to keep my steps light and graceful. Something that I was taught as soon as I could walk. Etiquette was an important lesson to know, especially for a female.

_Click, click. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click._

My mom, however, was allowed to make soft clicking noises with her shoes, to show off her heels. That's what my etiquette teacher said, and I tried to take most of my lessons to heart. Though, my teacher still ended up with a broken vase and an embarrassed student after every other class. Thank goodness it was a private class.

"I know that too. Just hoping that if I checked a second time…"

"It's okay, I use to always do that."

"Honey, let the man put the needle into your arm," said my father soothingly as I reluctantly relaxed my arm muscles. I hadn't made a big deal about it, but my father still knew that it frightened me slightly. Like him, needles were never a good part of my memories. Too many tears and cries in those memories for them to be liked.

The man smiled at me softly, like he knew how nervous I was. Probably did know, he had to do this as a teenager too. Ever since the start of the 'new' Hunger Games, people from the District could take your blood, something that many appreciated. I did, because thinking about a Peacekeeper roughly grabbing my arm and carelessly shoving a large needle into my arm would've made me panicked.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly to the man who was taking my blood. I bit my lip and tried not to flinch at the feeling of the needle slipping out of my arm. I didn't like people to see my weaknesses, a characteristic I gained from my mother.

The old man smiled, his Seam grey eyes shining with sympathy. He shook his head and secretly handed me a band-aid, something he didn't do for the others. He put a finger to his lips in a shushing sign.

"Don't worry about it. I felt the same way about it, Willow." His kind voice made me blink in surprise. Most would be tripping over themselves to act all formal and polite, none would ever act so normal.

It felt nice.

"Do you go by a name?" I question quickly, knowing that others were waiting in line. He put a hand onto my shoulder before tilting his head, his way of thinking. Like he was trying to choose whether or not to tell me the truth. I didn't blame him, a random girl-well, not _so_ random-asking for his name. I would be suspicious.

"Call me Oliver Undersee," he answers finally, pushing her encouragingly towards the crowd of girls of the ages 14-15. I don't even stumble, just calmly walking to the other girls, chin up and pose straight. I swiftly put the band-aid onto my bruising arm, where the needle had been.

"I hope I don't get chosen," a girl quietly sobs to herself, her grey eyes wide and teary. Her hair was short and unkempt, a dull brown. Her face was a pallor white and her skin had a layer of ash and dust. She had something close to rags on, but by the way she glanced at it, it was like a ball gown to her. It was an ugly mud-color, with oil and grease stains all over it. At her waist, it was loose and had a big hole in it. She was shivering even though it's summer.

I felt a stab at my heart. How could I be so scared right now? Most of these girls had spent their lives scouring through trash cans. Joyous to find simple and dirty food, cold porridge and moldy bread being their treasure. I spent my life with shiny jewelry and wondrous toys that most could only dream of.

Against my better judgment, I gently unstrapped my satin, five-inch waist-belt. I was careful to be unnoticed as I walked up to the girl. She looked at me with surprised eyes, like she saw a movie star or something.

"Hello, what's your name?" I ask softly.

"It's Audrey, Audrey Morrison," she whispers in slight awe and fear, as though she expected me to slap her.

I take my waist-belt and started clipping it onto her dress. "Here, so no wind will reach your stomach or waist," I murmur, ignoring her protests. I step back before handing her my cardigan, meeting her wide eyes.

"Keep this," I say, trying not to pay attention to the other girls, who were curiously watching. "You need it more than I do."

She grasped the simple, but elegant cardigan in her hands. She stood there silently before reacting. She hugged my midsection and the tears started spilling.

"Thank you. Thank you so much!" She cried over and over again, and I felt a rush of pride fill me.

"It's fine, just-"

"Welcome to the Ninety-First Hunger Games! May the odds be _ever _in your favor!" Taylor's sunny and cheerful voice interrupted my words. Audrey and I must've talked over the Mayor's speech.

Taylor was a lot like Aunt Effie. She was optimistic, polite, and cheerful. She was currently wearing a platinum blond wig that was in fake curls. With candyfloss colored mascara and brilliant red lip gloss, she reminded me of candy. She had a bizarre dress on, one of her shoulders being covered and the other not. It was like a business suit, only like a remixed version. Her heels had hot pink butterfly wings on them.

She was babbling about how it was an honor for someone to enter the games, and some other stuff about the Capitol. After Mayor Carson interrupted her long speech with a cough, she started getting back on track.

She cleared her throat and tapped the microphone, causing it to screech. Everyone winces, rubbing their ringing ears. She flushed in embarrassment as a drunk man started laughing at her.

I noticed him, well, remembered him. Though I'm sure I wasn't supposed to. I had been three at the time, and I have no idea why I remember it, seeing as how my memory gets fuzzy a lot. The memory was made up of mostly three voices. My mom's, my dad's, and _his._ Haymitch Abernathy.

"_Katniss, you can't be serious!" _

"_I am."_

"_Our kids need to know of Haymitch, who was our mentor in the Games. They should grow up with him, do things with him. Know him as Uncle Haymitch, not the random drunk that was on television. No offense, Haymitch."_

"_None taken."_

"_I don't care. Haymitch was chosen to be the only mentor for the Hunger Games. Our President doesn't trust us, so she keeps us with our family. Haymitch will never be able to see our children without risking their or his' life. They shouldn't have to meet him unless it's necessary."_

"_But-"_

"_No Peeta, Sweetheart here, is right. I don't want to have to see the brats unless I have to. The Hunger Games are ruthless Peeta, are you insinuating-"_

"_No, it just doesn't seem right."_

"_I know. Tell the kids…actually, don't tell them anything. I was never a somebody to you guys, only a nobody."_

Before he had left, I saw him for a second. It was all I needed to remember him.

"Anyways," sniffed Taylor as she impatiently tapped her foot. "It is time to choose our female tribute!" Her voice was now filled with childish excitement, and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from snorting.

She walked up to the big, clear bowl of names. She rolled her fingers like she was doing a mini wave before setting her hand into the bowl. She picked around for a second or two before lifting a white slip of paper up. She opened the folded paper and went back to the microphone stand.

Nervousness rushed through my veins as she slowly opened her mouth. I felt my breathing pattern go off, like I was running a marathon. Oddly, it was Audrey who comforted me. She squeezed my hand and shyly grinned at me. She wore the belt and cardigan proudly, her once scared eyes now bright and happy.

I smile back and silently hoped it wasn't Audrey who got chosen for the Hunger Games. I already felt a part of me like this girl. Maybe she could be my friend after this horrible day? That would be nice. Nice to have a trusting friend, one I knew I could count on. I wasn't use to that, after all.

"And our female tribute…" started Taylor, her brown eyes looking into the crowd, as if trying to find a face to the name on her card.

"…is Audrey Morrison."

God, what did I do to deserve this?

~End of Chapter One~

Author's Note: Okay, I know I said that the update would be about a week, give or take a few days. Well, four can count as a few, right now at least. Oh yeah, I just wrote a three thousand word chapter without the stupid warning, disclaimer, and this Author's note! And I also created an OC! She'll play a pretty big part in this story even though I didn't make her very special. But she will be doing important stuff during the games.

Please review and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is welcomed! And I still need a Beta for this story!


	3. Two: Absent Uncle and Mentor

~Under The Willow~

A New Generation of Rebels

Written By: Scrittrice Matilda

Warning: Mentioned in the Prologue, but here's a brief cover. Violence. Blood. Hunger Games. Romance. Oh, and changes in ages and other facts. Don't like? Don't read. Really, please don't read this if all you're going to do is complain and write flames. It isn't worth the trouble.

Disclaimer: Really? Do I need to disclaim? I guess I'll do it anyways. I do not own the Hunger Games series, but I created some characters and some personalities. Suzanne Collins is the owner of the series, and you should read her books.

Shout Out: To coolseal9 for reviewing Chapter One!

Chapter Two

Absent Uncle And My Mentor

_God, what did I do to deserve this?_

When I was younger, naive to the media and world beyond, I was daring. I would always plead my brother for an adventure. To go to this place or that. To meet these people and say these things. It was all a jumble, completely random and idiotic. I remember doing an extremely stupid thing, something that brought me to the cameras; not the cameras to me.

I was alone, and wandering into the part of the forest that was illegal. I was eight, and the memory remained imprinted into my mind. The trees seemed so tall and intimidating to an eight year-old. It was winter and all of the leaves were dead and fallen. The grass was yellow and the ground was made up of mostly dirt.

I got lost, my brother and I were playing our traditional game of 'Winter Tag', where the person 'It' would throw snowballs at the 'Chaser'. I had been 'It' and went a bit too far, losing myself into the forests of District Twelve.

It was freezing, and I could see my misty breath going in and out. I was amazed and didn't pay attention to my surroundings after that. I tripped over a root and landed flat on my face, causing me to scream.

I remember the horrible crunch of my nose breaking, and the searing pain that came afterwards. I started crawling, calling for my parents and brother. But that had only worsened the situation. I pulled something, my eyes blurry with tears. It felt familiar, like the wire that my mother had use to carry with her, saying it was special to her.

I tugged on it harder and the chain reaction came. I was sprung forward by the wire that was moving, unable to properly let go. My wrist had gotten caught into it and was bleeding. The wire strung up, and I was high into the air for a child, around four-five feet up. Not much now, but back then, it was like I was in space.

At the time, I could only think of two things. One, my wrist felt like it was being torn apart. And two, a song.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man_

_They say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it seem_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

The song had matched the howling wind that night, and my eight year-old self only sang that song. Waiting for her parents and brother to show up, standing there as they helped her get down from the horrid tree. From the horrid thoughts that came with the tree.

They came after four hours, and by then, my wrist had snapped and I fell. I only sprained the ankle, but all of the pain had made me pass out. I woke up to see my mom, dad, and brother. I remember never feeling so happy, so thankful. Because that night was the first night I experienced real pain, real panic.

Today was also another day of real panic.

I can't explain why though, she was just some stranger I had helped. But as I watched Audrey's eyes widen and get all teary again…I knew that it didn't matter if I had no reason whatsoever. I just needed to help her, get her to feel better. Maybe this was what a friend would feel, I hope it was.

"Come on Audrey Morrison!" Called Taylor, and the other girls in our age group started making a pathway for Audrey. She stood there frozen, her usual pale face was snowy white, like paper against a dark wall.

She walked forward and I counted every step she took. Her feet were nearly bare, her shoes were ragged and uncomfortable looking. she stumbled over her soiled shoelace and tried to keep her posture, but she couldn't.

I didn't blame her at all.

Step seven. Step eight. Step nine. At step ten, I felt something rage through me. It was anger and adrenaline mixed together. I was soon following her footsteps, ignoring the others yelling at me. I needed to do anything, anything to help her.

I started running to catch up with Audrey, the Peacekeepers were trying to stop me. Block me from the girl who I had unhesitantly helped.

They didn't even slow me down.

I grabbed Audrey's shoulders and held her back. She looked up at me with terror-filled eyes, like she was the prey and I the predator. It made me feel sick, like my dream happening all over again. Except this time, I was the Career and she was the victim.

I gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze and listened to the stomping feet of Peacekeepers trying to herd me away like I was a sheep. Though I kept my spot, determined to do something. But what was that something? What could I do to help? I always feared the games, was I brave enough to do something?

I reopened my eyes, knowing what the answer was. Yes, I was brave enough to do something, to change the tradition. To do something stupid and utterly idiotic.

To volunteer for the games.

"I volunteer," I whisper, but nobody hears me. I heard someone in the crowd yell 'What?' I spoke up and looked straight into Audrey's eyes, feeling my courage get stronger with each moment.

"I volunteer as tribute for Audrey Morrison!"

Everyone paused, their faces stunned. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw my family. They were horrified. My father looked grim, like he knew something like this was going to happen. My mom was crying, a weakness she rarely showed. And my brother looked devastated, his grey eyes echoing a question I asked myself a second ago. _Why?_

Because I felt the need to do something risky, something that the daughter of two victors would never be allowed to do. Because I wanted to help this girl, my _friend_. Because I wanted to be different.

To be free.

"Well, what a surprise!" Cried Taylor in delight, ushering me up to the stage. She looked ecstatic, but I could see a hint of sadness deep in her brown eyes. I then realized that this overly happy girl knew what horrors the Hunger Games are, but tried to be optimistic. Tried to be what others wanted her to be. Like me.

"I'll be! It's Willow Mellark, our District Sensation," says Taylor, and that must've been when my family finally comprehended what I did.

My brother scrambled forward from the 17-18 year-old boys group. "Wait! Willow, what the hell do you think you're doing!" I guess I shouldn't have been so shocked at my brother's use of language, but I still was.

He was about to protest further, but my dad knew what he had to do. He stalked up to Rye and pulled him to my parents' spot, silencing him. I nod at my dad thankfully, but he doesn't meet my eyes.

Hurt runs through me. I knew I did what was right. But did they think otherwise? I grew up being told that helping others was good, was the right thing to do. So why were they acting like that?

"Yeah," I answer meekly, trying not to sound teary. Though, seeing my mother and father's looks of disappointment and distress, I couldn't help but want to cry.

"So, do you know that girl personally," asks Taylor, trying to keep the crowd happy. I could see she was failing. They looked sad, as if I were their friend, their close one.

"She's a…" I hesitated, not sure how to answer. What was the girl? An acquaintance? A friend? A stranger? "...a friend."

Taylor squealed fakely, but still put on a good show for the others. "How sweet! A friend saving her friend!"

I nodded, but felt empty. My adrenaline, my strength, my courage, it was all fading away to realization.

"It's time to go to our next tribute," says Taylor as she calmly picks another folded paper from the boys bowl. She unfolded it quicker, knowing that the dramatic part of the show was over.

"And our male-and last-tribute is…James Abernathy!"

He must've been Haymitch's son, because they looked similar. He had dark, intellectual eyes and a lean figure. He wasn't intimidating like others I had known, but I immediately knew that he could be a threat. He had an air of intelligence about him, like my father had an air of charisma. He was dangerous, smart, and my district partner.

Then it hit me. District partner. Hunger Games. Kill. Die. Danger. And after all of those words running through my head, I could only think of one thing:

What have I gotten myself into?

~This is a break line~

I glared at my drunk mentor, feeling my temper rise. This guy got under my skin, and he didn't even say anything to me yet. It was like I already knew what he was going to do and already didn't like it.

"So you're Katniss and Peeta's little flower girl," says Haymitch drunkley as he swayed a bit. I bite back a retort and take a deep breath. In and out. In and out. In and out.

I smile sickly sweet at him. "Yes, but my name is Willow, like the tree. Not a flower." I grit my teeth as he smirks at me, waving his hand carelessly. He chugged his little alcohol bottle and groaned when he realized it was finished. I felt a surge of triumph at his unfortunateness.

"Whatever Sweetheart, just be ready to say goodbye to your parents. We're going to leave in ten minutes." He walked off, already bordering the train. As soon as he left, my family entered.

My mom was the first to get hold of me. She brought me close, like this morning and closed her eyes. I could feel her tears hitting my cheeks as I tried to memorize everything about her. Just in case I'll never see her again. She kissed the top of my head lovingly and let out a choked whisper.

"Why did you do it Willow?"

"Because she was my friend," I answer automaticly, not bothering to give any more information to them. She just stays there, and I know she wasn't angry at me.

"My baby, oh my poor baby. You can't just do that to us, we're old," says Peeta, and his words made all of us smile despite our tense mood.

"Thirty more seconds!" Shouted a voice, and my mom glared at the door, almost setting it on fire. I giggle at her piercing look, knowing that whoever was behind the door was shuffling away fearfully.

"Dear, just remember that in the games, survival first." My dad's frantic whisper made me nod robotically, not believing how they were taking this in stride.

"And try not to k-kill anyone," adds Katniss, her Seam grey eyes darkening like she could imagine me going through that. I felt a twist in my stomach as she looked into my eyes, and I couldn't help but see Audrey's eyes too. Both were wide and scared, looking like kittens that were lost.

"Bye dear, try to contact us," says dad as he pulls mom away, letting Rye get a chance to talk to me. Mom buries her face into his shoulder, and he wraps a comforting arm around her. Rye steps up, his eyes avoiding me. I felt a shiver go up my spine at his lack of emotion. He was never like this, only once had he reacted so cold. It was after I woke up in the hospital, with a broken nose and wrist, along with a sprained ankle. He had given my the cold shoulder for a month, a month of hell, really.

"Win." I was struck by the emptiness in his voice. He sounded almost emotionless, like he didn't care. "Just…just win."

They had left, the Peacekeepers causing them to leave. One of the men looked at me and tilted his head towards the train.

"Go." His demand was finished as I scrambled into the train. As the two Peacekeepers turned their backs, I decided to be immature and stuck my tongue out at them. I don't know what urged me to do it, but it was fun. I grinned triumphantly before the man who ordered me around spoke up.

"I saw that." I jumped and shut the train door shut, remembering to lock it. I felt my worries wash away as I stared at the furnished room, seeing Haymitch, James, and Taylor sitting. Taylor was scolding the two, her legs crossed and fingers intertwined.

A warmth filled me, and I knew that soon, these three would be an extension of my family. If I remembered correctly, that was the same thing that her dad had thought when he saw his mentor, Effie, and mom.

So maybe this would all be good.

~This is a break line~

No, nothing was good, everything was horrible. As the train sped away, tears had started spilling. I hated how crying always happened at the worst of times. As I tried to keep silent, my head turned to the window and my hands clenched in my lap, James broke the awkward silence.

"No need to be a crybaby," he said, yawning as if he was going to the Capitol to watch a theatre play. "It's over with, your fault for being an idiot and volunteering. I never thought someone would actually do it."

I gave him my harshest glare, my knuckles turning white from the strain. This guy was exactly like his father. Something made my skin itch with annoyance and my blood rush with anger.

"Shut up," I snap back before getting my act together. I feel myself get into my role, Willow Mellark, perfect daughter. I smile at him charmingly, knowing that this false facade was something I gained from my father. The only time I could be naturally charismatic. Well, technically it isn't natural, but that was a minor problem.

"Sorry, it's just been a stressing day," I manage to grit out. Taylor, who had been scowling at my rude comment, was now smiling at my apology.

"Oh it must've been dear! Such a well-mannered girl for being so tired," cooed Taylor patting my cheek condescendingly. I inhale sharply, causing James to snicker at me. Taylor snapped her head at the boy.

"On the other hand," exclaims Taylor, giving James a scolding look. "You are one rude boy! You should know that insulting a lady is not appropriate!"

James sighed in exasperation before replying. "I know that already, I'm just waiting for a lady to come around."

While Taylor sits there, sputtering about the boy's insult, I had to stop myself from snorting. James was right, I sure wasn't a lady. Ladies wouldn't personally volunteer for strangers, and still be okay with it. Then again, everyone thought of Audrey as my friend. I did as well.

I hoped she was okay, because I didn't get to see her after I volunteered.

I glance at Haymitch, who was getting another glass of rum. He licked his lip as he scanned the wide variety, and I couldn't help but sigh.

"So," I started, trying to gain Haymitch's attention for a second. "Aren't you suppose to give us some advice?"

Haymitch stared at me as though I told him to go blow up. He scowled as he sat down next to his son, making it weird to see such similar men next to each other. I wait for him to answer my question, which wasn't a very hard question at all.

"Look, all I can say is this: Don't die." He slumped and finished his glass in one go, as though he was satisfied with his answer. It didn't impress me, James or Taylor. We all glared at him, hoping he'd give a better answer. He didn't. Not that I was surprised or anything.

"Thanks a lot, Dad," muttered James as he stomped out of the room, like it solved all of the problems in the world.

Haymitch sighed, he suddenly looked older. His eyes looked haunted and his body looked exhausted. He glanced at me, knowing that I was going to ask him something else.

"Uh, what was the thing about you not being a 'somebody' to my family," I blurted out. I sighed, smooth, just smooth. This was one of the times that I hated my lack of sociability. Haymitch raised an eyebrow at me.

"You still remember that?" I nodded, replaying the day over and over again. Trying to make sense of what had been happening, what was going on.

Haymitch growled in anger, throwing his empty glass onto the ground. Taylor yelped and stood up, her eyes wide. She walked out of the room, and I somehow knew that she was going to get someone to clear the mess up. I start to pick up the pieces, but Haymitch stops me.

"Willow," he says, actually using my name. "Look at the pieces of broken glass. None of them are the same size or shape. They're all different, because when I broke the glass, I couldn't control what would happen after. Think of the glass as people's hopes and dreams, their best memories and greatest parts of them. Now look at the pieces and think of them as the people's shattered hearts and minds.

"Humans are greedy, and power is something we all want. The heart is easily corrupted by that, we want something, we take it. Simple as that. But not really, we'll do sick things to get what we want, what we crave. Our previous President, President Snow, was just like that. He even went as far as to kill 23 children every year for the people's fear. He was the person slamming the glass onto the ground, the one who watched the scene with interest. He did things like drink poison and threaten others." Haymitch put a hand on his lap and stayed quiet for a while before speaking again.

"Years ago, when the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games was going on, I had a plan. We were going to take Katniss out of the games and use her as our sign, the sign for the Rebellion. But we miscalculated a thing. Love. Katniss knew she loved Peeta after he literally died and came back, so she stuck with him to the end. She went against Johanna and Bee's orders, knocking Johanna out and finding her loved one. It ruined everything: our plans, our attacks, our future for freedom.

"President Snow died, Katniss made sure of that. But his spirit lived on in his granddaughter, who is now our President. President Freya. She is different from her grandfather, but Panem is the same. The thing is, you asked why I wanted to be a 'nobody' to your family. Simply because I was part of this, part of this broken nightmare that we cannot escape. For a moment, I held the glass firmly in my hands. But my hands got slippery, and I let the glass drop. I ruined everyone's lives by dropping the glass, and it makes it hard to see Katniss and Peeta again. I bring bad luck everywhere I go: into the games, with my friends, my family. And now, you."

I can't help but be touched by the intensity of his words. He seemed so wise, so old at the moment. "No," I state, grasping his arm and staring into his eyes unflinchingly. My courage rose from his words, and my bravery was back again. Ready to take on the enemies. Ready to take on the Capitol, if necessary.

"No," I repeat again. "You don't bring bad luck with you. Sure, bad things happen, but that's life. My parents are alive because of you. You're alive, your son is still breathing. And you are not alone."

And for a short second, he smiled genuinely, but it disappeared the moment it came. He was now a grumpy, old man again. Back to being the pain that I met only a few hours ago.

"Thanks," Haymitch gruffly says before narrowing his eyes at me. He pointed to the mess, then me, then stood up. I didn't get what he was saying, but I just mimicked his actions and stood up.

"No, thank you. For helping me understand."

Sure, he was a mean, old sot. An absent uncle and one of the worst mentors. But I guess I could overlook those qualities, my patience was strong enough.

"Oh, and Willow? I meant that I wanted you to clean up the glass. Think of it as a your first lesson from your wonderful mentor."

You know what? Maybe my patience isn't that long.

~End of Chapter Two~

Author's Note: Yes, listen to Haymitch's words of wisdom!

Please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed! And I still need a Beta!


	4. Three: Entering The Capitol

~Under the Willow~

A New Generation of Rebels

Written By: Scrittrice Matilda

Warning: Mentioned in the Prologue, but here's a brief cover. Violence. Blood. Hunger Games. Romance. Oh, and changes in ages and other facts. Don't like? Don't read. Really, please don't read this if all you're going to do is complain and write flames. It isn't worth the trouble.

Disclaimer: Does it seem like I own the Hunger Games? For that matter, a published book or series? I wouldn't be on Fanfiction, writing a story if I was an author. Rights reserved to Suzanne Collins. Though, an OC or two will pop up, and I did choose some character's personalities.

Shout Out To: coolseal9 again for reviewing the previous chapter! And to answer your question: that's a secret that I might or might not add. Sorry, but I have to have some secrets in this story!

Enjoy!

Chapter Three

Entering The Capitol

_You know what? Maybe my patience isn't that long._

Stepping out of the train to see the Capitol was quite amazing. People were flocking to the train station to get a glance at the District Tributes. So many vibrant colors, like a sea of rainbows.

It was like the time when I had first met Caesar Flickerman, watching the audience with awe. I had been nervous, but he easily joked it away, making me confident. But most of the time, my eyes were stuck to the people's outrageous outfits and wigs.

I glanced at James, who was stiffly walking through the crowd, trying to stay away from the curious people. It wasn't really working, considering how many people were here. He had a permanent scowl glued to his face, his arms crossed. His eyebrows were furrowed and his dark eyes were stormier. It wasn't hard to tell that he was getting irritated.

Taylor, on the other hand, was like always. She was shaking hands with everyone, commenting lightly on their outfits. She was making new friends here and there, her brown eyes lit up like a child of Christmas day.

"Make way," boomed Haymitch drunkenly, a bottle of vodka in his hand as he pushed through the people without a care. Many glared at him, but some others were too scared to do anything.

I straighten my posture and grit my teeth, thinking happy things as random people touched my arms.

'_We're almost to there.' _Someone smiled and waved at me.

'_My family is safe at District Twelve.' _A man grabbed my arm and congratulated me.

'_Don't kill them.'_ A lady's dress almost tripped me.

Yeah, it wasn't working so far.

I tilt my lips up and pretend to listen to the strangers as they happily conversed with me. I nodded and added a comment every once in a while. After the twentieth person told me that I was lucky, my eye started twitching.

Fortunately, Haymitch noticed my problem and grabbed my shoulder, glaring at anyone who dared to near us. We made our way through the crowd and met up with Taylor and James. James was smirking at my annoyed look while Taylor just hummed.

"Having fun, Miss Mellark?" Asked James in a Capitol accent, his smirk widening as I shot him a glare. God, this guy was getting on my nerve again.

"Of course I am, Mr. Abernathy," I snapped back, stepping towards the offending boy. It wasn't beneath me to punch others, but it seemed it was beneath Taylor. She noticed my clenched fist rising and shrieked. Haymitch and James groaned, slamming their hands to their ears. I jerked back at the scream, ears ringing.

"Gods woman! What is your problem!" Exclaimed James as he cursed under his breath. I try to keep myself from nodding in agreement as the ringing in my ears fade away. Haymitch opened a small bottle of vodka and chugged it in one go.

"If you want to fight it out, do it in the Games when everyone watches you kill each other!" Taylor says, her face flushed in slight anger and fear. She dusts her dress and starts to walk, leaving the three of us standing there dumbfounded. I felt something akin to disgust well up inside of me. How could she think like that? It was horrible and slightly inhumane!

"Why the hell does she care?" James growled out, his hands in his pockets. He follows Taylor with a grumpier attitude then earlier. Haymitch chuckles, starting to walk too. I walk, catching up with Haymitch and James.

"Because we're representing her, and she doesn't want us to embarrass her. Not so different from Effie," replies Haymitch as he carelessly tosses the small glass bottle. It smashed, but nobody bothered to give it a second glance.

I think of my overly enthusiastic aunt who is always chattering about us being careful. Then, I remember how she broke down when my brother and I reached the age of getting reaped. While Taylor had Effie's cheerfulness, I couldn't imagine Effie being so…heartless for the children who play the games. Aunt Effie always worried over every child entering the games, crying whenever one died. She'd be the one who'd comfort those who had loved ones who were chosen, baking cookies and casseroles for them. Her heart had always been in the right place; a place where she could help everyone.

"Aunt Effie isn't like that," I protested, glaring at my so-called mentor. Haymitch sighed and his features softened for a second when I said Effie's name before answering.

"She isn't now. But once upon a time…she was exactly like Taylor is." His words made my throat dry.

Could Effie had been like that? I would've never thought it possible, my aunt had to be one of the most caring person I know. Thinking of her being so excited for the games and all of the killing, it made my stomach turn in horror.

"Come on Mini-Sweetheart," called Haymitch, and I finally noticed that he and James were waiting impatiently for me. I run to them, they were in the elevator where Taylor was now chattering to herself. Even though I was still slightly disgusted at what Taylor said, I couldn't help but curl my lips at the scene. My mom and dad had always said that even though their team was odd, they were like an extension of their family. Maybe this is what they were talking about. It was small and I could barely feel it, but I knew it was there. And it would grow stronger.

It was the feeling of people getting to your heart.

"I'm coming, just a sec-Wait…don't call me that Haymitch Abernathy!"

FxW

Freya Snow smirked as she looked around District Twelve, the coal mining district. A poor, useless, and utterly hopeless district. In all truth, Freya would've had this district destroyed because it seems the place is as rebellious as District 13. She remembered when her grandfather warned her about the rebels. People throughout the districts were quiet and sneaky, but they were still there. The sparks of the rebellion was still going, like the embers of a put out fire.

But unlike her deceased grandfather, she was ready for it.

Freya knocked on the door of Katniss and Peeta Mellark's house. She smiles deviously when she hears familiar footsteps. The door opens and she sees the boy she was looking for.

Rye Mellark.

Blonde hair, grey eyes, tall, and extremely handsome. It was too bad that he was young for her, otherwise he would've been hers already. She smirked when the boy didn't notice her face or person. The boy had always been interesting to her. He seemed so innocent, so loyal. He seemed like the boy who would do anything for his family. For the good of his district, even rebel her and the Capitol.

But he wasn't like that.

"I'm sorry, but my parents aren't here today!" Rye's charismatic voice paused at the end when he noticed his president standing there. His eyes and facial expression changed. Grey eyes lit up like a storm clearing, and genuine smile lit his face.

"President Snow! What a pleasure to see you again, please come in," greeted Rye, making way for her. Freya smirked as she stepped into the impressive house. Sure, it wasn't as fancy as her house, but it was still breathtaking.

"I already told you, call me Freya." Rye smiled. He nodded quickly, leading her to the living room. He brought in some delicious cookies and hot tea, something that actually intrigued Freya. It was brought out so quick.

"So, how has your work gone, Rye?" Asked Freya innocently, knowing what he'd do. She guessed right.

Rye's expression darkened and he glared at the mahogany table in contempt and slight guilt. He clenched his fist, his skin around the knuckles becoming white. His brows furrowed in concentration like he was trying not to punch the table.

"It's all my fault, now she's gone," he whispered softly. His eyes turned stormier as he thought of his sister. She was in the games and Freya knew that it broke the boy. The boy was extremely sad, she knew that he blamed himself for the choosing of Willow Mellark. But she also knew something else.

It wasn't his fault. She never knew this was going to happen, but it did take a turn for the good. For her at least it did.

Freya took a deep breath and forced herself to push all emotions away. She had a job to do, and she'd be damned if she didn't do it.

"It's okay, you know that I'm here to comfort you. You can lean on me," cooed Freya as she touched his cheek. She leaned closer to the teenager, a seductive, yet sympathetic look on her face. Rye didn't seem to notice the sudden change in mood, immediately tilting his head into her hand. He closed his eyes for a while, and Freya stayed silent.

"Thank you," he whispers, opening his eyes again. He didn't notice the hungry look in his president's eyes, nor her scooching closer to him. "Is there any way I can repay you for all you've done?"

Freya felt a rush of triumph fill her, knowing that she was succeeding in her little game. She was close, she could taste it on the tip of her tongue as she was now against Rye's side. They were sitting so close, their faces almost touching.

"Yes, there is a way you could…" she trailed off before tracing her fingers up to his shoulders, then his neck. She reached up and kissed him. The boy immediately melted at her touch, too sunken in guilt and adoration to bother recognizing what he was doing.

Yes, the boy was around seven-eight years younger than her and she said she probably shouldn't even think of forming a romantic relationship with him…

…but she never said it was beneath her to do it.

FxW

Freya closed the door behind her before turning to look up at the window. She saw Rye looking out of the window, his gaze up at the sky. And she knew that his thoughts were on his precious sister, whose eyes were not so different from the crystal skies.

Her lips curled upwards as she straightened her outfit out, walking to her airplane. Her bodyguards were waiting there, their faces void of any emotions as they watched her buckle herself into her seat.

"Ready to take off, Freya?" One of the guards asked, and Freya glared at him with cold eyes. The guard, on his part, didn't even flinch. He was already use to this treatment, and like all other guards, didn't let the President's attitude get to him. He knew it was useless to try and argue about it. The lady was cruel and could freeze her heart.

"That's President Freya to you, you stupid guard," she sneered out harshly before nodding at the pilot. She looked out of the window, her eyes landing back on the boy she had just met with. Rye Mellark. What an odd boy.

"Yes, I'm ready. Take us back to my mansion."

Oh yes, President Freya had some work to do.

~End Of Chapter Three~

Author's Note: Here's chapter three! If you didn't get the part about Freya, I changed the point of view to third point of view, but more of Freya's side of the story. She plays a big part in the story, she is the president after all! And sorry for the short chapter, it's around 500 words less. Please forgive me!

Anyways, please read and review! Reviews are appreciated and so is constructive criticism!


End file.
